


Once More with Feeling

by LelithSugar



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Domestic Fluff, Established Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Roleplay, Sexual Inexperience, Smut, Very Resolved Sexual Tension, all that good stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 15:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15076463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LelithSugar/pseuds/LelithSugar
Summary: I never seem to get tired of writing about their first time. Fortunately, they never get tired of reliving it.





	Once More with Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paxdracona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paxdracona/gifts).



> To Paxdracona, as a little apology for making you cry and in thanks for the idea and the support. I hope I did it justice. 
> 
> A little different to my usual style, I think, because I promised quick and dirty! In a change to my regularly scheduled programme of keeing works in progress for three to six months and turning quick oneshots into 8k beasts, I'm making a real attempt to turn my fortnight old notes for this into a fic in a reasonable sitting. It's 20:37 and I've just cracked a beer. Let's do this.

Once More, with Feeling

 

They say you don’t get a second chance to make a first impression. But if you make a hell of a first impression, you might just end up repeating it over and over, adjusting to taste along the way.

Theirs goes a little like this. 

It starts with Eggsy pulling Harry into the guest bedroom with him, and Harry going easily,  _ so  _ willingly but standing stock still once he’s there, clenching and unclenching his fists because he doesn’t trust himself with his hands. And Eggsy, a breath in front of him but not touching yet, goading him on with his eyes. They both know what’s coming - always did - but in that frozen moment they’re still waiting, clinging to the last threads of the way things were before whilst Eggsy gets closer and closer into Harry’s space and waits there for Harry not even to meet him half way, but to give him  _ something _ . 

Eggsy hears him swallow, watches the slow duck and climb of the tension in his throat; sees the flicker of his eyelashes as his eyes close, helpless. 

And then there’s a firm hand in the small of Eggsy’s back to pull him close, hips first, and Eggsy feels a heat on the shell of his ear that he thinks at first is Harry’s lips but it’s just his breath. Either way it makes a violent shudder of arousal and anticipation wrack right through his core. 

“God help me, Eggsy, I want you so badly.”

Eggsy turns his head just enough to kiss beside Harry’s mouth and doesn’t tell him that he doesn’t need help, that he can have him any time. He just lets Harry have that last realisation by himself, working on his resolve by kissing at the weak points he technically shouldn’t know are there and melting into Harry’s grip on him, which is restrained - like he’s touching as little as possible - but hard enough to bruise.    


Harry relents in kind, at last, touching his lips against Eggsy’s skin so tentatively the first time, like he’s afraid he’ll disappear in a puff of smoke at the contact; giving in to it and kissing Eggsy’s jaw and his cheek like as long as he avoids his mouth it's alright, it doesn't count. 

And it’s not like that doesn’t feel good, too. Besides, it’s fun watching Harry fight himself at every milestone for control, reading every argument on his face as it goes through his mind.   _ I'll kiss him but i won't touch him. I'll only touch him above the waist. I'll only rub my hands over the outside of his jeans, catch my fingers on the seams, feel the heat coming off him and the hardness bulging at the fabric, I won't…. _ But he does. Eggsy helps him along, taking Harry by the wrists and putting his hands on the places they both want him to touch, grabbing while handfuls of what he wants and pulling Harry’s tie loose, the buttons of his shirt open. 

“Eggsy, we really shouldn’t-”

“Nah, probably not. But I want to. You want to.” 

Harry answers him with a proper kiss, at last, deep and hungry, and Eggsy gets a few moments of the heaven of his tongue before Harry breaks away like he's desperately trying to have second thoughts and not a bit like he's succeeding in anything but that riling him up more. 

“For goodness’ sake. I'm old enough to be your father.”

“Mmm.” Eggsy kisses under his jaw, strangely excited by the tiniest prickle of stubble there, that hint of a crack in Harry's perfection. “And my mentor, too. Naughty naughty, Harry. What would people  _ say _ , if they found out?” 

“I think you know exactly what they're going to say.”  _ Saw it coming _ , mostly, and  _ about time too.  _ In one case just a twenty pound note grudgingly slapped on a table. But Harry gives that line up at the feeling of Eggsy’s wet mouth on his neck and lets himself play along, groaning at the press of their bodies, obviously hard and that contact seems to strip another layer of pretense away. Harry goes for the collar of Eggsy’s polo shirt but runs out of buttons quicker than he’s used to: Eggsy whips his own shirt off to clear the way for him and Harry’s struck dumb for a second, staring, drinking him in all over like it’s the first time he’s ever seen him without a shirt on and then he’s grabbing his firm hold on Eggsy’s hips again whilst Eggsy works the rest of Harry’s buttons, nuzzling into Eggsy's hair. 

“We shouldn't be doing this.”

“Don't you want it?”

“Did I say that? Does any part of me look like that's what I meant?”

Satisfyingly it does not, at all. Harry's eyes are black, shining wild, his hands seemingly independent of his thoughts, touching Eggsy so reverently but so desperately. And then more clothes are coming off and it's very obvious where this is headed even whilst they're still making token noises in the opposite direction, like it’s all so sudden and unexpected when really it was anything but.

Eggsy goes for Harry's belt buckle, and Harry seems to snap to his senses.

“Have you ever even been with a man?”

“Uhhh.” An answer is going to bust the bubble, one way or the other, so Eggsy skirts it by getting to his knees between Harry's feet, taking his trousers down with him as he goes. “That's good, right? You can show me how you like it. You been a real good teacher so far. Make it like when you showed me how to do my tie and then made me practice til I had it down.”

“Jesus, Eggsy.” But he's weak for it and Eggsy can't help a little snigger at how easy it is to push his buttons. It loosens him up a little, too, when he knows Eggsy is doing it on purpose: makes him more game to up the ante. Harry stares at him, fire over the coals of his eyes, and then finally sets his jaw in a challenge that carries all the amusement of a smile.  “Well, I'm sure you know the basics. Lips over your teeth, don't take down more than you can handle.”

Eggsy fights an eyeroll and the  _ yeah, think I got it, thanks _ and concentrates instead on Harry’s cock once he’s pulled his boxers down because it’s quite plain Harry was not going to be forward enough to do that by himself. Eggsy has half a mind to sit there and play up his nerves, stare at Harry’s cock for a bit with his mouth half open and his eyes widened like he isn’t sure what to do with it, close enough for him to feel his breath and see how long it takes Harry to grab him by the hair and push him down, but he’s not that cruel and delayed gratification has never been Eggsy's strong point either. 

He does take time to start with hesitant little licks to the head - tasting, exploring, eventually making Harry hiss out blasphemy - before, true to form, getting into it and trying to ram so much down his throat that he can make a bit of a show of choking on it and that finally forces Harry to grab hold of his hair to slow him down into some sort of rhythm.

“That's it. God, that's good.”

Eggsy knows that, because Harry’s knee just twitched and threatened to buckle under him, but the praise is sweet and exciting and Eggsy can always, always go for more of hearing Harry tell him that he feels good, so he draws back just a little to work his tongue up the thick, soft vein on the underneath.

“This? This nice?” He looks up and waits for Harry to answer him with something other than a groan.

“Perfect. You’re perfect.” It would probably be reasonably appropriate - accurate, at least - to tell Harry that flattery will get him everywhere, but Eggsy just hums in thanks and that makes Harry’s leg tremble as well. He tries not to pay too much attention with his tongue to the frenulum underneath the head until Harry prompts him to, with fingers digging into his jaw holding him back so that's all he can do: wait, just teasing with the very tip of his tongue because that’s better than not having his mouth on Harry at all and because it’s making him moan so quietly in the back of his throat that he’s not sure he knows he’s doing it.

Eggsy lets Harry draw him back by the hair to get him to pay attention to his balls and is happy there, eye level with where Harry is stroking his own cock until he lets go, allowing Eggsy to work his way back up to take the head into his mouth again. 

It’s not difficult, reading those reactions and the beautifully helpless, strangled noises Harry tries not to make; the hitching and pulsing of his cock, the way the taste of him spreads very suddenly. It’d be easy enough to follow instinct and chase that to the end right now, but they both seem to think better of that at the same time.

“Easy, easy. That's enough.”

But it isn't. It isn't enough because Eggsy doesn't have Harry's come in his mouth - and it's startling, the realisation that he wants that more than anything.

Well, not anything. 

Eggsy grins. “You gonna fuck me, then?”

Harry stifles a moan at hearing it unavoidable, out loud, and doesn’t give Eggsy a verbal answer because that might be a bit too much like acknowledging what’s going on, and that might break the spell just a little bit.

Eggsy ain’t got time for that. He watches Harry watch him shove his jeans and boxers down, his cock springing proudly up to smack against his belly as he twists and bends to pull them off his feet, and he doesn’t have time for the way Harry’s staring at him like a starving man in a Nandos either. He sucks on his middle finger and slips his hand between his legs.

“What are you - oh no, no you don't.”  Harry catches Eggsy around the forearms and holds him still with one hand - that’s daunting and wonderful; Eggsy adds restraining holds to the ‘more often’ list - and twists them in an awkward shuffle to retrieve lube from the dresser. It’s cherry when it should be plain, which is possibly accidental, probably Harry thinking he’s hilarious. 

Eggsy takes the hint anyway and squirts a puddle of it into his palm to work his fingers through.

“Do you know what you're doing?” 

“Yeah. Yeah 'course I do.” He shrugs the concern off, hiding both layers of truth under a sheen of obvious bravado.  “Seen plenty of porn, played around a bit, how hard can it be?” 

Harry makes a helpless whimpering sound that cuts off in his throat like he's being strangled. It's not like Eggsy blames him: the idea of popping someone's cherry is pretty major, after all, so he’d better be savoring it. He’s never asked, if he’s Harry’s first  _ first. M _ aybe he will at some point, but there are more important matters at hand right now. 

Eggsy nudges Harry to sit on the edge of the bed and props one foot up to make sure Harry gets a good view of him reaching up under himself.The first finger is a tight pinch but then he manages to relax around it. Harry watches him intently, but his eyes are fixed on the discomfort, surprise and hope Eggsy feels flashing across his face rather than the real action. 

“It's not supposed to be an ordeal, you know. Take your time. You can touch your cock.”

“Fucking can't. I'll come.” It'd also be a bit like trying to pat your head and rub your belly at the same time, Eggsy reckons, but Harry won't be as turned on by that. 

He doesn’t really catch how Harry responds because he’s concentrating. The plasticky-fruit scented slick that’s spread around means the second finger is a little easier, if anything. Eggsy twists his fingers to coat what he can reach with lubricant, and pulls them out with a triumphant, accomplished little huff as if to say  _ There, see? Done. _

“That's not nearly enough.”

“No?” He knew that, really. “Better show me how it's done so I don't hurt myself then.”

And then he's on his back at the bottom of the bed, Harry over him, kissing him, standing between his legs to take over. 

“For fuck’s sake, you were determined not to just let me suffer, weren't you?”

Eggsy bites his lip and nods, robbed of speech by Harry's sudden aggression, by the slide of the power in his favour, but he loves it. Harry's fingers are slimmer and longer than his and two go in smoothly, effortlessly finding his prostate and pulling against it. A warm, tingly sort of pleasure bursts out in Eggsy's pelvis and for that startling second it feels like he's going to piss himself and then it ebbs into bliss that has him moaning. 

“There?”

“Fuck yes, Harry.” Like he doesn't know damn well.  And then Eggsy loses all thought of playing or posing for a few beautiful moments abandoned to pleasure: Harry’s fingertips rubbing tight little circles over the sweet spot that makes heat stab at his skin and sparkles swim behind the dark of his eyelids. He could melt, like that, just let Harry finger him until he comes or dies of it or something explodes, but that’s not how this one goes. Not this time.

It might be because he’s making some unhinged sort of noise that Harry tucks an arm around Eggsy’s back and slowly, gently draws his fingers out, looking into Eggsy’s eyes with this smug, almost predatory smile as he watches him come back down to earth. 

“Isn’t that better?”

Of course it is, and his broken moan is a bit for the feeling of loss as well as for Harry's ego. Eggsy’s body is relaxed enough not to flinch against Harry’s touches when he strokes more lube over him, and Harry tries him out with a third finger but now he’s sitting in his lap he can’t get to the good angle and they’re both running out of patience. Weak kneed, flushed and almost dripping, Eggsy manages to straddle Harry and grab the lube to coat Harry’s cock before he sits on it.

It’s slow, slow going and part of that is so Eggsy can make the most of every heavy breath punched from Harry’s chest by the weight of bliss; can watch his eyes flutter shut and his head tip back as Eggsy’s body envelops him, tip to root. They stay still, just throbbing together, needy in silence, until Harry manages to open his eyes. That stokes the fire again and somewhere amidst the deep, wet, sucking kiss that follows one of them shifts enough to knock them into a gentle motion; Eggsy starts to rock just slightly in Harry’s lap and then to lift his his and drive them down, huffing a soft little noise of pleasure and effort every time it brings them flush together.  


Harry does nothing but cling to him, for a few moments, desperately trying to keep Eggsy close enough to put his tongue down his throat and grab into the meat of his back even whilst he wants to thrust up.

“How… how does it feel?”

Oh yeah. “Big…” Eggsy swallows, laying the candor on thick now and loving the way it pulls Harry apart, and Harry manages a look of concern even though it’s obvious he wants nothing more than to flip Eggsy over and fuck the daylights out of him. “Ain’t hurtin’ though. Just feels full, and hard, and…  _ good, there _ …”

Holding him still in position for a moment, Harry thrusts up again and watches keenly for the answering nod and the momentary roll of Eggsy’s eyes. Eggsy braces his arms across Harry's shoulders and Harry starts to lift up to meet him and that’s it, there, the pleasure comes out as big sweeping jolts of heat and bliss that make him writhe around and tilt his hips to get it in just the right spot and of course Harry loves that, moans and buries his face in Eggsy's neck, sucking the sweat he's caused off his skin.

The chosen vein prickles under Harry's mouth, searing and bringing a sharp thrill up Eggsy's body with it. That's going to mark, and Eggsy probably should at least pretend he cares.

“Oi!” He puts his forehead to Harry’s temple and pushes until he detaches him from his neck. “Do you want everyone to know?”

Of course he does. Don't they both? But it's so hot to pretend… and Eggsy’s caught between fantasy and reality, between the dream and the very real present need to fuck himself down on Harry’s beautiful thick cock and get Harry to bite him and make that noise some more, get him to moan in his ear about how good he feels, how tight and perfect and beautiful,  _  just for me, Eggsy… my Eggsy… _

Harry strokes a fingertip worshipfully down the central groove of Eggsy's abs on the way to wrap a slick hand around him and start working his cock whilst he bucks his hips up against him. Their mouths are a mess, catching sharp teeth nd tongues all over each other wherever they can reach, kissing and mumbling whatever new filth springs to mind but Harry’s hand is precise, twisting lube over the head of Eggsy’s cock and then forming a loose fist around him, dragging the tunnel of his palm back and forth over the ridge in quick jerks that don’t leave any time for the pleasure to dissipate; it just builds. 

Eggsy feels the crest of orgasm start to break over him and doesn’t know how he's surprised it's so soon. Had he ever doubted that someone like Harry would make sure their partner got off first, honestly? Manners, and all that. But in that instant the realisation still hits him like a sonic boom through his whole body, hot and urgent and overwhelming, every nerve blazing. He's going to come, now, riding on Harry's cock; he's going to come with Harry's hand on him, for the way he's touching him, with Harry licking kisses along his collarbones; he's going to fucking  _ come _ ...

His orgasm’s fast and intense and makes his toes curl against Harry’s knees, makes Eggsy swallow down a noise he can’t get in enough breath to let out as a proper moan, his come pulsing over Harry’s hand along with his thrusts like Harry's fucking it out of him and that thought wrings the final shocks of pleasure out. Harry slows to a stop as the last few drops fall over his knuckles, and lifts Eggsy off him so he can get up. 

“What now?” Eggsy manages to breathe, like he doesn't know where it goes from there, what comes next. 

Harry doesn't say a thing. Maybe he can't. Just grabs for Eggsy's head and pulls him down to wring out a few strokes over his face. Eggsy makes sure to keep his mouth open, eyes tipped up, and it's barely seconds before he has to close them so that Harry’s come catches in his eyelashes rather than blinding him, heavy hot stripes of it landing over his cheekbone, across his bottom lip and his chin. There’s enough in his mouth to make a breathless show of swallowing, though otherwise his throat’s so dry that’s a real effort.

For a few moments after, there is just peaceful, panting silence in which Harry produces a handkerchief for Eggsy to wipe his face down with and collapses back onto the bed.Eggsy does so with an exhausted cough of thanks. 

Eventually, he manages, “You good, babe?”

“Marvellous. I think that one gets better every time.”

Probably the most unbelievable thing is that Eggsy has finally run out of dirty old man jibes. It doesn’t help that Harry has absolutely zero shame about getting off on the differences in their … life experience, is the polite way of putting it. About the idea that he was doing something forbidden that he shouldn't be, that he corrupted Eggsy, which is pretty credible considering what a rampant old freak the man is, but it does in fact take two to tango.

Harry taught Eggsy to tango. Harry taught Eggsy to foxtrot, to waltz… Harry’s taught Eggsy a lot of things. Eggsy’s taught Harry a few, over the years, and he’s actually reasonably sure the fond reminiscence about their early days with some of the cringey fumbling and cross-purposes left out was his idea first, but he won’t push it because then he can’t wind Harry up about being a pervert, and then what would he do with his life? He kicks at his jeans until a packet of cigarettes works its way out of a pocket and he can be bothered to bend to get them, and his boxers. 

Of course, Harry doesn’t miss that even with his eyes shut.

“You're supposed to have given up.”

“...authenticity?” Eggsy tries, optimistically, but he already knows he's lost.

“Nice try. Get back here.” Harry pulls him to the bed and into a cuddle. They’re only going to have to get back up because the spare bed’s never done anyone’s back any favours, and  _ neither  _ of them have got any younger since that first time when they were too shellshocked, lovestruck and exhausted to decamp the fourteen feet down the hallway to Harry’s room. It’s still worth it. “Why have you even got cigarettes?”

“I been good, honest, I caved on the way back from the pub on Friday but I only had two. And then one yesterday after that meeting, but I legit thought I was gonna climb out my skin. I'm doing okay!”

Harry still doesn’t open his eyes. “Make it through to the end of the week and I might be tempted reenact the other first time.”

“The other-? Oh. _Oh_.”  Eggsy needs no further prompting on the memories of staring at each other, hot and silent, simmering with adrenaline and champagne for the duration of the flight home from a rather daring escapade in Serbia and of Harry, dragging Eggsy to bed by his tie, falling back, spreading his legs and allowing Eggsy to do what came naturally.

Well, he says naturally  _ now _ . At the time he'd been entirely wrapped up in ‘ _ are you sure, is this okay, are you okay, am I hurting you, are you  _ sure  _ this is okay,-”...  _ but they can leave some of that out of the action replay.

Eggsy waits until Harry opens his eyes to look for his response, holds his gaze, chucks the packet of cigarettes over his shoulder, and hears them bounce off the wall and hit the carpet.

**Author's Note:**

> ... Scrolling back up to have to add this at the end was anticlimactic for me, but for you guys: 23:48!! I did it! Let me know what you think. :)
> 
> And if you'd like to have your offhand comments spun out into smut, or have anything else to say, you're welcome to drop me a line on Tumblr where I'm randomactsofviolence and my asks and whatnot are always open. Interaction around fic is what keeps me going, and my sincerest thanks go out to everyone who's left a comment or sent me a message so far!


End file.
